nexus_sages | (no subject)

Jim makes a noise that's not quite a laugh, no real humor in it. "Need, probably. Allowed, not if it's alcoholic. Or caffeinated." He doesn't have any idea whether that other stuff she introduced him to would fit into his restricted diet, it's not like Bones forbade it. The fact that he doesn't know about it is immaterial, in Jim's opinion.

Gavan brandy is neither, if you remember it fondly.

*She considers her words and gives a shrug.*

It's neither if you hate it, as well, but that escapes the point.

He nods a little, something closer to a real laugh escaping him for a moment. "Yeah, I'd hoped you'd say that." It's not like he'd asked for an ingredients list before.

"I could go for one."

Then do.

*She smirks, that light of challenge glinting in her eyes again.*

Remember the way?

He shrugs, mindful to take care in doing so. "Depends on if it's moved since I was here last time. Apparently things do that sometimes." But he's willing to give it a go.

They've been known to, but I don't think that one has yet.

*She tilts her head in invitation.*

After you.

He has to brace himself a little to get to his feet, but he seems steady enough once he's upright, setting off in the direction he thinks their destination lies. "So... how's your life been going?" he asks, since he's not completely stuck in the mire of his own thoughts.

It's been going well. I hit a pirate relay station recently, and they haven't realized they lost it yet. I'll have their encryption keys for at least a month.

*Her smile is at once both pleased and fierce.*

He musters up a smile for her, appreciating her skill. "I'm sure you'll put 'em to good use."

That's the plan. I'm hoping one of their cloning facilities will put in a resupply order so I can get the coordinates.

*She's content to keep the conversation on her during the walk to the bar. The small victories of finding it and steering the conversation should, she thinks, give a little boost to the wounded confidence she suspects Jim suffers at the moment. That should, in turn, make it easier for him to open up when he has a drink in hand. Always strategy.*

Though I'd be just as happy to get the location for one of their missions so I can be waiting for them. Ah, that's fun.

Jim frowns, giving her a slightly puzzled look. "Pirates with cloning technology? What do they use it for?"

Filling out their ranks. Most of them are speed-grown clones with a neural net imprinting their brains while they ripen. It's one of the lynchpins of their aggressive stance--they can afford high attrition rates because there's a fresh platoon just waiting to decant.

Well that has some disturbing implications. Jim shakes his head slightly. "Small wonder you want to get to the heart of the whole thing."

*The future is, in some respects, kind of terrifying.*

Exactly.

"Nobody'd better give the Klingons that idea, or everyone's going to be in deep trouble. I don't know how that'd fit in the whole code-of-honor thing but they might like the idea too much to care."

He can see the bar up ahead a ways, so at least he remembered the right way to go.

Is the technology to bioengineer, force-grow, and cybernetically augment industrial quantities of clones available in your Facet?

*She glances ahead to the bar, then accords Jim an approving nod.*

Well done. Klingons?

"Not in Federation territory, but that's because that kind of tech was banned by law three hundred years ago." Jim takes a moment to decide if he wants to share, but fuck it, she's gonna find out anyway. "That terrorist I mentioned was one of the reasons why genetic engineering got outlawed. He was in cryosleep with seventy-two others, and the only mercy is that we only had to deal with one of them."

Explaining about Klingons is at least a little more emotionally distant, despite the role they played in Khan's initial capture. Besides, she might need to know about them, in case her search for Kodos leads her into their territory. "Big tough humanoids with ridged foreheads. They're really into the blood and honor thing, but they've gotta have scientists or they never would've invented spaceships let alone warp drive. They're not exactly friendly towards the Federation."

This terrorist, do you think he was a terrorist because he was genetically modified?

*She'll get the door; Jim is clearly nursing injuries, and she's not completely without mercy.*

In my experience, people with a sense of honor can usually be reasoned with, it's just a matter of understanding how their honor is defined.

Jim shakes his head. "Not exactly... I mean yeah, he was designed to be a supersoldier and decided not to take orders from 'lesser' beings, but it was his own choices that put him where he ended up, going all the way back to the Eugenics Wars. If whoever made him could've programmed him to be a terrorist, you'd think they'd make it so he couldn't rebel either."

He nods in thanks at her getting the door for him. He could likely manage it himself, but less reasons to aggravate his aches and pains is appreciated.

"Probably true," he agrees, picking out a seat at an actual table this time, so he can have a chair with a back to lean against. "There's a lotta bad blood between us so far. Neither side's been really excited about trying to settle things, with the Neutral Zone supposedly keeping us out of each other's space, but there are incursions sometimes. On both sides."

"Eugenics Wars?" That sounds like a pile of bad ideas--I won't even dignify it with the term "stack."

*She takes a seat as well, flashing a quick look to the bartender--the being brings them a glowing blue bottle and a pair of tumblers and retreats out of earshot.*

That sort of thing's better sorted sooner than later. Left to fester, every little thing turns into a major incident--but that's an outsider's opinion, and one with only the bare bones at that.

Jim can absolutely agree with her sentiments about one of the worst wars in Earth's history. And really, enough said about that.

He's also only mildly surprised that the waitstaff here knew exactly what to bring without Samus saying anything. Either she's enough of a regular that they don't need to ask, or the barkeep has a good enough memory to recall their last visit. Which wasn't terribly long ago, to be fair. Either way, he pours himself a bit of the glowing brandy and slides the bottle across the table to her.

"It's an outsider's opinion, but it's not wrong," he agrees, taking a sip from his tumbler. "I'm not innocent in this either."

*Some places in the Nexus excel at customer service, and Samus has the advantage of being distinctive in almost any company. She pours herself a generous measure and takes a sip.*

You did something to these Klingons?

*She'll let them settle in, probe around this Klingon subject while the Gavan brandy does its work. She'll approach the more sensitive topics once he's more emotionally limber.*

Jim nods a little, wishing that recent events weren't part of this topic, too. "Had to cross the Neutral Zone in pursuit of the terrorist. Got caught by a patrol on the Klingon homeworld. We did try to negotiate, but it was already going south somehow before Khan popped up and blasted them all away." He shakes his head. "As far as I know, Starfleet hasn't been directly linked with any of it, but I'm still responsible."

*She considers that, sipping again at her drink, studying the contents of her glass thoughtfully.*

Tell me more about these Klingons. How does their system of honor operate?

"I'm not an expert," he says apologetically, "but from what I understand, honor's pretty much everything to a Klingon. Glory in battle's a big part of it. They don't take prisoners and they'll kill themselves if captured, but if you beat 'em fairly and prove you're stronger, they don't mind retreating. They might hate your guts but they'll respect you as a fellow warrior or whatever, and then it's more exciting to get to fight you."